


A Cow's Point of View

by Annehiggins



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cowley's view on the relationship between his two best agents. Published in <em>Virtual Pros,</em> Bovinity Press, 1997</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cow's Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> The Minister in the episode "Spy Probe" was not given a name. I have opted to use the actor's last name, hence he is Minister Crowden. This is also one of the few Pros stories I've written where I thought it worked better if Cowley were NOT Bodie's biological father.

A Cow's Point of View

by [Anne Higgins](http://www.thecircuitarchive.com/tca/cgi-bin/contact.cgi?author=Anne%20Higgins)

  


  
The minute they walked into my office, I knew why they'd wanted to see me.  
And it was long past time, too. For that reason, I let them squirm, let them  
struggle for words while I gave them my best inscrutable stare.

They'd been working for me for going on eight years now, and from the  
beginning they've been the best team I've ever had. Aye, I do mean from the  
beginning. There was no awkward breaking in period for the two of them. No  
time where I felt I could not trust them with the most dire of operations.  
Oh, at first each had chaffed at the yoke of being saddled with a partner,  
but they had always worked well together. And I knew everything that had  
happened along the way.

It's in their eyes, you see. Both of them have very expressive eyes. They  
seem to know it on an op and use it to their advantage, but around  
headquarters they just don't realize how much they reveal. I knew when  
mutual dislike turned to respect, respect to friendship, and when friendship  
became love. Aye, I know it sounds daft. My best team, which I believe makes  
them the best team in the business, and the one-time terrors of the  
secretarial pool, fell in love about three years ago. Took them until less  
than a year ago to figure it out. The boys aren't usually that dim, but one  
only had to take a look at their dating records to know that they loved the  
company of women. I knew they'd both had same-sex flings in their youths  
(CI5 vetting is very thorough), but I don't think either of them had  
expected to discover that the great love of his life wasn't female. Daft,  
indeed.

I do not care about that, of course. As long as it does not interfere with  
the job my operatives can live their lives as they please, and only once did  
Bodie give me pause on that score.

I'd assigned them to look after President Ojuka, but none of us had  
considered the idea that his favorite wife was in league with those who  
meant to do him harm. Doyle was caught in the fallout of her treachery and  
for a time it looked liked the lad might pay the ultimate price. Despite  
that, I had ordered Bodie not to move in without backup, but he disobeyed  
me. At other times the two of them have done that, but always for the  
greater good. This time it seemed it was all for the sake of his partner.  
Though I could understand and sympathize with that, I could not allow it.

Once we'd all returned to headquarters, I gave him the worst dressing down  
of his life for that. He was all 'sorry, sir,' 'no excuses, sir,', while I  
was in a rage that was about to culminate in his two week suspension and a  
review of their partnership. But his eyes stopped me. I had seen less pain  
in them when he'd been stabbed years ago. So, I broke out the scotch instead  
of the forms for disciplinary procedures and told him to tell me what the  
hell had happened. When he did, I felt both relieved and embarrassed by my  
outburst. I should have known better. Aye, he HAD moved in against orders.  
But only into a better position. He'd acted only after he'd heard the shot.

"I knew he was dead then, sir," Bodie had told me, his voice so  
matter-of-fact one would have thought he hadn't cared, except for... aye,  
the eyes again. "Wasn't anything left for me to do but finish the job. They  
were about to get away, so I opened fire."

I've always known that one could not survive without the other. In that  
regard, I agree with Kate Ross that their relationship has some unhealthy  
aspects. They just need each other too much. But I'd long ago decided that  
separating them would do the greater harm, and that they could do the job no  
matter what happened, while I prayed I could save the survivor once the  
smoke cleared. Bodie had proven me right that day in all respects. He had  
finished the job with all the intelligence and skill I expected of my best  
man, despite the fact he thought his partner had been killed. But when I  
asked him what he would have done once Ojuka was safe, he would not look me  
in the eye. I counted myself fortunate that I was not laying two of my men  
to rest and said a prayer that night that I not live to see that day.

So, as I said, the fact that they had become lovers did not concern me, but  
it did bother me that they had failed to report their relationship to me.  
Whitehall's views on the subject tend to be less... flexible than mine,  
making such relationships security risks. If I'd thought for a moment that  
either of them would ever submit to blackmail, I'd have called them to task  
for their lapse, but I knew my boys would never do that.

Aye, my boys. Grown men, both in their thirties and as dangerous as they  
come, but still I think of them as my boys.

Doyle cleared his throat and said, "Sir, in light of recent events, we feel  
that there is something we should bring to your attention."

He started off strong, obviously reciting a prepared speech, then he  
faltered. But I could guess what events he was referring to. I never should  
have sent Doyle to tell young Cook's wife that he had been killed by  
terrorists. It was my job, but I thought she would take the news better from  
a friend than a man whom she had only met once. Take the news better.  
Sometimes I amaze myself. June Cook had one child, with a second well on its  
way, yet I had expected her to stay calm with a friend when told she was now  
a widow. I should have been the one she vented her grief on, not Doyle. And  
I'd noticed the change in the looks between Doyle and Bodie since he'd  
spoken to her. Something she had said had made at least Doyle impatient with  
the secrecy of their relationship.

Doyle tried again. "The thing is, sir, Bodie and I want to share a flat."

Close, laddie, but not close enough. A good fourth of my operatives share  
flats with their partners -- a matter of convenience, not love. "You do not  
need my approval for that, man. Just submit the proper form to allocations."

He looked frustrated, then turned his gaze to Bodie, silently asking for  
help. He did that often when dealing with me, believing that Bodie got away  
with more. And perhaps he does. I've not done a grand job of hiding my  
affection for Bodie, but Doyle holds an equal spot in my heart. Bodie just  
needs the acknowledgment of that affection more

I can still remember when we finally tracked down the Russian mole in the  
Ministry. Manton. His name will always be a vile curse in my mind, but he  
was clever, eluding a dozen investigations without the hint of suspicion  
falling on him. It took an elaborate bit of triple think to finally bring  
about his fall. I canna find it in myself to regret his death at my hands,  
but I still feel pangs of guilt for the bad moments I gave Bodie.

Both had stood by me while my plan unfolded -- a plan that made me fall  
under suspicion of treason. Doyle with his suspicious nature considered the  
notion that I was guilty. But Bodie never doubted me for an instant. The  
reward for his trust was a lung full of stun gas for both of them. That I  
regret. Both had gone undercover numerous times with completely convincing  
performances, but I feared it might be different if they had known the cloud  
over my head was of my own manufacture. Ironically, it is harder to feign  
concern than to play the role of an entirely different person.

Anyway, I got to them quickly after the stun grenade went off. Bodie was  
closest, so he got the first bit of oxygen from the canister I'd brought  
along. Doyle got the second, and typical of him, he insisted he was all  
right from just that bit of help. I decided to humor him and returned to  
Bodie. I'll never forget his first words as his wits returned to him,  
"Sorry, sir. Failed you," he'd gasped. I'd used him and set him up for this  
bit of discomfort or worse. I'd planted the notion of using the stun gas in  
the Soviet's minds, but they could have just as easily used something more  
potent or explosive. Blowing up Bodie and Doyle's car would have made just  
as much tactical sense, but I'd sent them into it without a word of warning,  
and he had apologized for failing me. Even flushed with triumph at the  
apparent success of my plans, I'd felt a pang of guilt for that and had  
spent a bit of precious time soothing him.

Ah, Bodie. Once, in jest, Doyle called him a great, big softie, but all  
three of us know it's an apt description of the lad. Physically he's as  
tough as they come, but emotionally, he wounds easily. I've always thought  
that Doyle needed that softness, just as Bodie needs his partner's toughness  
to balance him. Two halves of a whole, those two.

Bodie shifted a bit, signaling that he was about to broach the subject, but  
was obviously still searching for the words.

"Well, spit it out, lad," I insisted, the sound of my voice making him  
jump. "I'm a busy man."

"Doyle and I, well, we want to share a flat because..." he struggled for a  
moment, then just blurted it out, "We're lovers, sir."

"And when did this happen?"

"Started three years ago," Bodie admitted, his face flushing. "But it only  
got serious about nine months ago."

Just as I had thought. No need to even change their files. "And you just  
now saw fit to tell me?"

His head dropped, but Doyle had been studying my reaction. "You knew," he  
accused.

"Aye, I had guessed," I answered, cutting off any outbursts of temper with  
a hard look of my own, "but that does not change the fact that you should  
have told me yourselves when this first started."

Doyle glowered -- he does not like being in the wrong -- but he conceded  
with a nod.

"H-how did you...?" Bodie shook his head, as if the action would make the  
conversation a bit less awkward. "We were so careful."

I gave my own nod. "I know you," I told him. Having made my point about how  
late in the day this 'relevation' was, I saw no further need to punish them,  
so I did not tell Bodie how he fairly glowed with happiness these days. "It  
is not something a stranger would notice, lad. But I imagine you will find  
that the news would not come as a shock to many of your friends." Or at  
least it had better not. I paid most of those friends for, among other  
things, their observation skills.

"Oh."

"So what happens now?" Doyle asked with more than a touch of belligerence  
in his voice.

They both knew governmental policy on the matter, that I had little choice  
but to ask for their resignations, yet I knew that they both would be  
shocked if I did. And rightfully so. 'Cows give milk; cows suckle their  
young.' It was an oft-repeated cliche of mine, and I believed in it.

Only the safety of this realm comes higher in my list of priorities than  
the welfare of my operatives. That duty to Britain often demanded I risk  
their lives, but I never do so without good reason. That was why they both  
still worked for me after the Diana Mulner operation.

I'd smelled the stench of government corruption clinging to that poor lass  
and, while I sorted it all out, I'd set Bodie and Doyle to the task of  
keeping her alive. To cover us all, I'd dubbed the affair an Operation Suzie  
\-- no back up, no ties to CI5, even false resignations had been logged for  
both of them. They should have been safe enough, but for once the opposition  
out-maneuvered me and I was faced with a court order to reveal the location  
of all CI5 safehouses. I had no choice but to comply, but I thought to buy  
us all a bit of time. Bodie had told me once that he did not care for the  
safehouse CI5 had been established in an old train. He'd said it was fine  
for meets, but a bit too exposed for his tastes when things heated up. So I  
told the lackey sent for the safehouse list that they favored that location  
when I had no idea at all where they were. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that  
Doyle tended to lead in the partnership, and he did not dislike the train.

I almost lost them then. Twice. First to an MI 11 hit squad, then to  
Doyle's anger at what he thought was my betrayal of them. Bodie calmed him  
down, and they both believed my explanation. But Doyle had remained a bit  
wary of me, and now he looked at me as if he expected me to turn on them.  
Not a chance, laddie.

"Now I go have a talk with Crowden," I answered him.

"Crowden?"

"Aye, I think he owes CI5 one after what happened with Dawson, don't you?"

* * *

  
Two hours later I walked into Whitehall ready to do battle with the enemy.  
Governments are necessary and ours is a good one -- I truly believe that --  
but the short-sightedness of many of those who served Her Majesty's  
Government often amazed me. Minister Crowden was a case in point.

MI6 had had a bad time of it recently. In the past three years, two  
successive controllers had rather abruptly left their posts. The first had  
been forced to resign for abuses of power, and the second, Dawson, had been  
killed by Bodie and Doyle when he had tried to escape capture. It seemed the  
man had been a Soviet agent. Just like Manton. Intent on serving his own  
agenda, Crowden had backed Dawson against me in a jurisdictional dispute  
over what turned out to be the case that exposed Dawson's mole status.

It was sheer nonsense from the first. MI6's brief does not allow it to  
operate within the borders of the United Kingdom. Such matters of internal  
security are for CI5 and MI5 to deal with. Yet Crowden had insisted I work  
with Dawson on the case. Once Dawson had met his fate, I'd had Crowden  
throughly vetted by own people, satisfying myself that he had no ties with  
Mother Russia himself. Knowing that it never hurt to have someone in  
Whitehall who owed me a favor, I had not reported his misjudgment of Dawson  
to the Prime Minister. If I had, he would have lost his posting. We both  
knew that, and, as I entered his office, we also both knew I had come to  
collect.

Once seated in one of his plush leather chairs, I wasted little time in  
getting to the point. "It has come to my attention that two of my operatives  
have become lovers," I informed him. "Both are male."

He studied me for a moment, then responded as I knew he would, "Then you'll  
have to ask for their resignations."

"No, sir, I will not," I answered in a matter-of-fact tone that displayed  
no belligerence. "I'll not lose two good men to the prejudices of this  
government. Other service branches may resort to that sort of foolishness,  
but as long as I am head of it, CI5 will not."

He heard the implied threat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The  
security risk--"

"Does not exist as long as the relationship is not a secret," I insisted.  
"It is our own policies that create the problem, not the relationships." It  
was true. Only a fool would deny it, but few in these halls would ever  
acknowledge it. "I'll have no part of it."

Crowden cleared his throat. "And if I support you on this to the PM, all  
favors are paid?"

"No, sir," I corrected, then spelled out the nature of my threat. "If you  
do not support me on this, you may tell the PM to expect three resignations."

His face actually paled at the notion of my resignation. Just a few weeks  
ago, I have few doubts that he would have accepted it with great glee. But  
now, he could ill afford to have both CI5 and MI6 with only acting heads.  
"All right, I'll support you on this," he said. "But I am hardly the only  
one the PM takes advice from."

"Nor are you the only Minister who backed the wrong horse." I was owed  
quite a few favors. More than enough to carry the day for both reasons for  
my visit to Whitehall.

"All right, George. You win. And just for the record, who are the men in  
question?"

"Bodie and Doyle."

He practically gaped at me. While he was still reeling between reality and  
his mental image of what two men who loved each other should be like, I  
launched into the rest of it. "Which brings me to the other matter dealing  
with those two, and the favor you owe me."

"Good God. What could be worse than this?"

"In time, Minister, in time," I told him, partly to be aggravating, partly  
because there were a few things I needed him to think about before I hit him  
with my proposition. "Do you know why CI5 was formed?"

On the face of it, my organization was redundant, my brief covering  
situations that were also the responsibility of MI5 or Special Branch. In  
fact, CI5 had jurisdiction over everything that happened on British soil,  
but had no jurisdiction that was solely its own.

"I believe it had something to do with the former Prime Minister wanting  
his own personal storm troopers."

I ignored the insult. I'd heard it often enough and always dismissed it for  
the nonsense it was. Sad though it may be, CI5's rather sweeping powers were  
needed then and still are. And I see no sign that they'll not be needed  
forty years from now. "It was after the Philby scandals," I told him. "MI6  
was a laughing stock and a Russian mole was quite probably the head of MI5.  
The PM decided there was a need for a small, elite organization with members  
who could be more thoroughly vetted." Even then there had been mistakes --  
Barry Martin and Wakeman. But Martin had been turned, not bent from the  
beginning, and he'd been well paid to make certain Wakeman had no problem  
with the vetting process. No organization was proof against that sort of  
treachery. I even have hope that some day, if I tell myself that often  
enough, I might even believe it.

"The PM decided?" Crowden mocked me.

"Aye, it was my idea," I acknowledged. I'd risen far enough in MI5 to gain  
the PM's ear from time to time, but he had proven an easy audience, the idea  
all but having occurred to him independently. "But I did not expect to be  
appointed head of CI5."

No, not for an instant had I expected that. "I'd gone as far up the ladder  
as my background and education usually allowed," I told him. "But the PM  
wanted someone who was incorruptible in the post. Someone who did it because  
it was his duty, not as a stepping stone to greater power." I couldn't quite  
resist the pointed look I turned in his direction. "He decided I was that  
man and made my accepting the post a condition of forming CI5."

"And the reason for this little history lesson?"

"To ask you two questions. Is there still a need for CI5? And, if so, do  
you want to see a Whitehall mandarin as Controller or someone who can do the  
job?"

* * *

  
Bodie answered the security buzzer within seconds after I pushed it. "Yes?"

"Open the door, lad. It's cold out here, and I need a drink." I told him,  
only getting halfway through the sentence before he pressed the door release.

My leg was bothering me a bit -- it often did at the end of the day despite  
the physical therapy regime my physician had set me on -- so I took the lift  
to his third floor flat.

Bodie was standing in his doorway, an anxious look on his face. I was  
pleased to see that. I didn't like to think that the lads were not very  
concerned about their futures in CI5. Quite a joke on me that would have been.

He followed me into the front room, and Doyle handed us both a glass of  
pure malt scotch. I swallowed a bit, enjoyed the smooth taste of it, then  
put them out of their misery. "Your resignations will not be required."

Bodie sighed, his muscular body fairly sagging with the sound, but Doyle  
gave me a suspicious look. He seemed to know I had more to say, but he  
hadn't guessed the substance as his next remark proved. "We won't live apart  
anymore. Won't flaunt ourselves, but we're going to share a flat."

"About time you stopped straining the budget with a flat you never  
occupied," I told him, well aware that he'd spent less than a day in the  
flat currently assigned to him. Damned waste of funds.

That took the wind out of his sails for a bit and let me get back to my  
little bit of news. "As I was saying, your resignations will not be  
required, but there will be some changes."

Doyle shot me an 'I knew it' look, but Bodie looked at me, his eyes as  
large and trusting as a wee pup. "What sort of changes, sir?" my pup asked.

"You're still my best team, so I canna in all justification remove you from  
the streets totally at this time, but you'll not pull that duty quite so  
often," I said in between sips of scotch. "Also, you'll be issued new code  
numbers."

I enjoyed the look of confusion on Doyle's face -- a suspicious nature can  
be quite useful in this job, but he was well aware of the affection I held  
for him, so enough was quite enough.

"New code numbers? What for?" he asked. Not demanded, asked. Progress at last.

"Aye. You'll use them when you are not on A Squad duties," I said, then  
decided that I'd toyed with them enough. "As of now, you two are officially  
deputy controllers of CI5. You can flip a coin to decide who will be Alpha  
Two and who will be Alpha Three."

While they were busy trying to pick their jaws up off the carpet, I poured  
myself another scotch -- it had been a thirsty day's work.

"Just a minute," Doyle sputtered trying to come to terms with it all.  
"You're telling us that we're not only not going to be given the sack but  
that we're in line for your job?"

"Aye."

"Just how the hell did you pull that off?"

"I've been collecting favors for a long time, laddie."

"How long?"

"Since the day I formed CI5." I had always known that it would take a  
certain type of man to replace me -- one that would be unlikely to meet with  
Whitehall approval. I'd been right on both counts. I'd just not expected  
that man to be two men who were two halves of a whole.

Which reminded me. I raised my glass to them. "Congratulations and may you  
have a long, happy life together," I gave them the same toast I gave at the  
wedding of any of my operatives, then added a bit more, "And if one of you  
hurts the other, I'll have the offender's head on a plate."

They smiled, the future before them full of possibilities and a love  
stronger than I'd ever seen. Oh, they'd need a lot of training to take over  
CI5 one day -- but so had I. Diplomacy; how to guard against or manipulate  
those who used power according to their whims; how to plan operations down  
to the last detail, yet leave them to others to carry out -- I'd had to  
learn all those things and more. I knew they were up to the task. I could  
see it in their eyes.

In fact, when it was all said and done, I suspected that the joint  
Controllership of William Andrew Philip Bodie and Raymond Doyle will come to  
be thought of as the glory days of CI5. The prospect pleased me a great  
deal. For though not flesh of my flesh, they are still my boys, and what  
father doesn't want even greater things for his sons?

\-- THE END --


End file.
